


Too Late - This is Not the Answer

by JessicaDoom



Series: IWSC - Hogwarts Year 2 (Exchange Student) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, IWSC | The International Wizarding Schools Championship Writing Challenge, M/M, Post-First War with Voldemort, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaDoom/pseuds/JessicaDoom
Summary: There have been whispers of a new potion for a few months amongst the werewolves. They refer to it as Wolfsbane, and those who have been able to get their hands on a dose claim it is a life-changer.Remus enters Borgin and Burke's with the express purpose of purchasing this potion - nothing more. But how could he truly resist the offering of a cure to his affliction?(IWSC Round 6: Hogwarts Judge's Pick Winner)
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Original Male Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: IWSC - Hogwarts Year 2 (Exchange Student) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736812
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Too Late - This is Not the Answer

**Author's Note:**

> I have joined the International Wizarding School Championship as an exchange student for Hogwarts and this is the first piece written for this competition. The story follows canon with the exception of an alluded romance between Remus and Sirius. The story earns its Teen rating for mentions of werewolfy violence/gore and referenced substance abuse.
> 
>  **Theme:** Borgin and Burkes (Explore characters who need dark magic to survive or as their occupation)
> 
>  **Main Prompt:** [Character Type] Fallen Hero
> 
>  **Additional Prompts:** [Theme Location] Borgin and Burke's; [Character Type] A Turncoat

Remus Lupin was starving.

If he were to be honest with himself, he would say he'd been starving since he was nearly five years old. He'd been able to numb that feeling over the years with quick, momentary satiation. Food and affection helped to quiet that underlying craving for a time. Back when he was too young to even begin to comprehend what the future held for him. As he grew older, he turned to the numbing of drink and the miracle of nicotine. And, when he was older still, he attempted to dally in harder substances which fell out of the scope of magic. Most of those options, with their withdrawals and side-effects, left him in a worse state than he'd started.

At the age of twenty-four, Remus now knew the only way to silence the hunger was to give in. To allow the darkness inside him to consume and devour.

He didn't even dare _think_ about it. When he felt his mind slipping in that direction, he quickly replaced those thoughts with the distinct scents of suntanned skin and leather. The phantoms of them stuck in his olfactory nerves simultaneously soothed him and filled him with loss and regret.

Remus blinked back the tears threatening to form and allowed his mind to circle back to the hunger, starting that vicious cycle over once more. He rolled his neck from side to side, eventually allowing his head to _thunk_ back against the glass case behind him. The sound filled the little shop, echoing off the items around him. He felt a dark energy respond, licking back at him. Teasing him to chance a closer look.

"Don't touch anything," his companion reminded him, apparently noticing the way he began to search for the source of the call.

"I'm not touching anything," Remus reassured him, using his closed fists to lift the pockets of his cloak from the inside. A faint smile flittered across the man's face at the childish display before he rolled his eyes and continued his determined search of the shop.

They were there for a very specific purpose. His companion wanted to sate Remus' hunger. Wanted to sate _both_ of their hungers. They were afflicted with the same malady, boasting similar stories of childhood terror. They were perfectly matched.

Remus had never truly met another werewolf before he found his companion — a similarly down-on-his-luck werewolf named Edon Lovell, who took immense pleasure in referring to Remus as his "mate". For so long, he had felt he knew enough about his kind to feel comfortable in his decision to steer clear of them. But now…well, he was doing many things lately he never thought he would be comfortable with. Like strolling through Knockturn Alley for the express purpose of finding dark magic.

A mere couple of years earlier, he was fighting to abolish such things. He was a well-respected member of the Order of the Phoenix, working alongside his closest friends every single day to see an end to shops like Borgin and Burkes. But now, here he was, perusing said shop's selection — no better than any of the other wizards he had once fought in battle.

 _You're not any better than those wizards_ , whispered the voice in his head. It held a familiar tone, the words eerily reminiscent of the memory of his last conversation with one of those friends he had once held such respect amongst.

"Gentlemen!" Remus startled back to the present, looking up quickly at the shopkeeper. Mr. Borgin, who Edon had prefaced before their arrival now ran the shop alone, was settled behind the previously empty counter at the back of the shop. A new level of shame shrouded Remus at being seen by anyone in such a place, but he squared his shoulders and followed Edon to the counter. "Here for a purpose, are we?" Borgin questioned, raising an eyebrow and completing the lecherous look upon his face.

"We've heard rumour," Edon whispered smoothly, leaning over the counter with his arms crossed upon it, "that you have something we may be in need of."

Content to let him dominate — to _always_ let him dominate — Remus remained back a couple steps. Edon was…magnetic. He was easy to like in ways Remus himself had never mastered. He knew how to make light of their situation, no matter what it was. And he always managed to provide for them. Remus hadn't been able to hold down a job since the war ended, and since James was no longer around — well, he wasn't able to live comfortably on his own. No one wanted to keep a werewolf on staff, even if he _had_ been top of his class at Hogwarts.

Edon, completely opposite of Remus, was not afraid to do whatever was needed to survive. He was not averse to stealing or pickpocketing. And he had no qualms about the idea of utilizing dark magic to aide their monthly transformations. Remus, desperate enough by that point to quiet the constant pang of hunger he could never fulfil, felt he had no choice but to go along for the ride.

 _If the others could see me now_ , he thought bitterly, knowing his fellow Marauders would be ashamed of things he did to survive lately. Even Sirius….

Sirius, who had always seemed so _good_. Sirius, who accused Remus of being a spy with such conviction and renounced them all the very next day. Sirius, who sold out James and Lily and poor baby Harry to the forces he had so convincingly pretended to fight against at Remus' own side.

Sirius, who used to lie in Remus' own bed, lamenting over his own dark-influenced family and how he would do everything in his power to be the exact opposite of who they were.

Sirius, who was a liar.

_And a murderer…._

Remus forcibly pulled himself out of those thoughts, shaking Sirius from his head, and focused on Edon describing what they were after. There had been whispers of this potion for a few months amongst the other werewolves Edon associated with. They referred to it as Wolfsbane, and those who had been able to get their hands on a dose claimed it was a life-changer. It was said to relieve some of the symptoms of the full moon and aide the transformation. It was supposed to make the changed werewolf more docile. It was supposed to make their condition more manageable — less pain, less hunger, less rage.

But, as the ingredients were dangerous and the brew was subsequently difficult, Edon's contacts said Borgin and Burke's was the only place it was currently available for purchase. At a high price, mind you.

As soon as Edon said the name of the potion he was after, Borgin's lips stretched into a wide smile, showing off every rotten tooth in his mouth. He was about to make a good profit for the day. "Why, yes, I do have that particular potion. We keep it in the back, you see, as your kind has proven to have sticky fingers." Borgin turned to the door behind him before seeming to remember something and facing them once more, catching Edon giving Remus a hopeful and eager grin of his own. "Perhaps that may not be what the two of you are truly after, though… Perhaps two young wolves such as yourselves may be more satisfied with something more…permanent?"

Remus could see that Edon was instantly intrigued. He was practically buzzing, his eyebrow arched high into his frizzed, black coils of hair. "Permanent how?" Remus asked, scepticism winning against the discomfort of his surroundings.

"I do have a cure for your conditions," Borgin boasted, clearly proud of himself.

A cure didn't exist, but if it _did_ …it would most likely be found in a place like this. A place full of ancient, dangerous magic. A place where secrets could be purchased for the right coin. "We're not interested in any snake oil crackpot cure," Remus said with a dismissive wave of his hand, even while aware of the irony of that being almost exactly what they intended to purchase. "We'll take the Wolfsbane Potion and be on our way, thank you."

"I don't know, Remus, maybe we should at least consider it?"

Edon was strong and self-sufficient, but he was also almost hopeless after so long in turmoil. He hadn't been afforded the years of reprieve Remus had. He hadn't had friends willing to break laws to keep him company during his monthly transformations. He hadn't been given a safe place to wait out the full moon so he wouldn't harm anyone. He hadn't been allowed to study magic or given a wand, having been orphaned by the same werewolf who had turned him as a boy. He knew what it took to survive and, therefore, he held no hesitancy when it came to desperation.

Between the two of them, they barely had enough money to cover the cost of two doses of this new potion. There was no way they would even be able to afford a cure, if there was one. _Which there isn't._ Remus palmed the coins in his pocket and shook his head. "Edon, please. Let's be rational."

"A cure is rational!" Borgin and Edon exclaimed in unison. "Let me at least show you," Borgin continued. He walked towards the front of the shop, an unsettling spring to his step while he located the item in question.

Remus refused to look anywhere but at Borgin as the warmth of Edon's fingers seared between his own within his pocket. He blushed at the touch, squeezing just once before taking a step away and dislodging them. "Remus," Edon whispered, his breathing betraying his giddiness, "we've talked of this very thing. A cure! You've said yourself that you would do anything for just that. Haven't you?"

In the same way he spoke of how he would do anything to go back to that fateful Halloween night and fix everything, Remus had said that. But anything didn't really mean _anything_. Remus wouldn't give up the last of the money he had on a scam made of dark magic with unknown effects. As Borgin returned, Remus kept his head down, unable to meet Edon's pleading look.

"Here we are." Borgin set a small wooden box atop the counter. Marring its every side were symbols Remus recognized as runic Elder Futhark. He understood a few of the runes, frowning in puzzlement when he realized the box did seem to boast something about wolf-coated men. "Now, this relic will be, naturally, more expensive than your potions. But if you were to have your cure, there would be no need for monthly tonics, now would there?"

Curious, Remus reached out to touch the box, tracing the sharp angles of the carvings. Just before Borgin jerked it out of reach, he was sure he sensed whatever was within. Just for a moment. And, for that moment, Remus felt like it was warning him. He stepped back, hands up and head shaking back and forth slowly. "Edé, we shouldn't," he muttered, his words barely audible through his fear.

"Tell me how it works," Edon demanded, either unable to hear Remus' warning or unwilling to heed it.

Borgin looked absolutely triumphant as he flipped the clasp on the front of the box. He slowly raised the lid, revealing the polished opalescent stone inside. It looked almost harmless sitting there on its bed of time-worn silk. "It's simple," Borgin explained. "Along with this stone, you will receive a ritual. A transference spell, of sorts, dating back to the Vikings. They revered their werewolves as mighty warriors and it's said this ritual channelled through this particular object was used to transfer the power of transformation on, keeping the tradition alive in their strongest men.

"Likewise, the ritual could be used to transfer your affliction on to…someone more deserving of its effects?"

To someone as desperate to quiet the hunger and to ease the pain as Remus was, this stone and the power it possessed was tempting. No, it was beyond that. It was downright inviting. Had he been presented with this opportunity years ago, he knew he would have refused it without a second's hesitation. No matter who he was to pass his lycanthropy on to, it wouldn't be right. Not a single person deserved to feel the way he did every day. And if there was someone, perhaps the fallen Death Eaters under Voldemort's command, they would surely be more of a danger to the world than Remus already was.

But in that moment, when he was already feeling so lost and so desperate, this opportunity presented to him in such a beautifully designed package did have him hesitating. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was unsafe. But if he could, for even one month, escape the war raging within him…could that not be enough? Could it not save his life?

If he stayed as he was — poor, ashamed, hungry beyond relief, a monster with a venomous bite — how much longer could he last? How long could he go on living with himself in such a state? How long did he have before he eventually needed to end it all?

Did this constitute as a means for survival?

"No," Remus said quickly, as much to himself as to the other two men. He repeated himself, stepping toward the counter and physically pushing Edon away from it. He wouldn't stoop so low. He may no longer be the hero he had once been, but he wouldn't become the villain either. He wouldn't allow himself to fall any further than he already had. "Mr. Borgin, we won't take your offer." Remus nodded resolutely even as he felt Edon beginning to seethe with rage beside him. "We have come to buy two doses of the Wolfsbane Potion and that is all we will be leaving with. If you please…." He gestured back to the store room where Borgin had indicated the potion was kept, eyebrow raised in expectation.

Once Borgin retreated, after snapping the box shut, shoving it in his pocket, and mumbling insults and slurs beneath his breath, Edon rounded upon Remus. He grasped Remus' shirt front in his fists, pulling him forward before pushing him back into a nearby cabinet. The items within shook dangerously, but none broke much to Remus' relief. He wanted out of this shop with as little damage as possible and did not appreciate the idea of leaving cursed.

"That was our chance!" Edon snarled, nearly foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. Spit flecked Remus' face with every word he spat. "I know we couldn't afford it…but we could have worked out a deal for payment! Even if we couldn't have our cure tonight, perhaps we could have in a year's time. How could that not be something you want? After all you've been through…. After all _I've_ been through, how could you even dream of denying us this chance?!"

Edon had every right to be angry, just as Remus had every right to retain his humanity. He reached up, backhanding the spittle from his cheeks but otherwise made no move to remove himself from the other's grip. If anything, he pushed up into a bit, hoping to remind the man of the flesh and blood person beneath him. A person he had claimed to care deeply about. A person with morals and a chosen side he could not betray. "Edé," he said sweetly, his fingers curling around Edon's wrists. "It isn't right. You know it isn't…." After all, Edon was different from the other werewolves. He didn't relish in the bloodlust of the full moon. He felt shame and wanted to be a good person even beyond his petty crimes for survival. "It's dark magic, Edon, and we don't know what effects it may have. We don't even know if Borgin's telling us the truth about what it does. We have no reason to trust him or this _thing_. But I think you do trust me." Remus searched Edon's eyes, noting the way the anger was beginning to bleed away. "Don't you?"

"Of course I do, _mon loulou_ ," Edon breathed, loosening his grip over Remus' collar. He smoothed the wrinkled and stretched fabric in gentle juxtaposition to his frustration a moment before. "But I'm just so tired…."

"Me, too," Remus whispered, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against Edon's temple. "But we can survive without it, I promise."

Borgin returned with exactly two vials of dark liquid. Blue curls of smoke swirled in the empty space beneath the stopper, appearing just as Edon's contacts had described. Remus smiled, dropping his handful of coins into Borgin's waiting palm and grabbing the vials. "If we come back next month, will you still have more?" he asked.

"I won't make any guarantees. It's a risky business supplying to your kind," Borgin said snidely, all pretence of his business-like manner now gone.

Remus nodded, knowing they probably wouldn't be welcomed back the following month by the contemptuous look in the man's eye. "Thank you," he said as kindly as he could muster, placing his palm flat against Edon's back and guiding him to the door.

It wasn't much and it certainly wasn't enough, that one potion. But it would be a welcome reprieve for as long as it lasted. And that would just have to be sufficient.


End file.
